


wild and fluorescent

by h0ldthiscat



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0ldthiscat/pseuds/h0ldthiscat
Summary: With Kim, it always happens all at once.
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler
Comments: 16
Kudos: 45





	wild and fluorescent

It’s been years. Not for lack of trying, it’s just… been a while. With her. Without, rather, her hands sweeping his shoulder blades, her chest pressed to his, her jagged breaths that he always thought were laughs, but maybe all this time she’d just been breathing. She breathes against his cheek now, and her thumb follows. Her hands come to rest on his shoulders and her forehead touches his. She’s so close that when she darts her tongue out to lick the corner of her mouth, it brushes his lips. 

“Let’s get a cab,” she whispers, and then she’s pulling him after her, his body moving before he’s understood what she said. Her hand is in her purse, dangling off her wrist, then punching the buttons on her little phone, then swiping across her nose while she looks down the road for the car she called. In the back seat, she leans against him, her chest humming with her deep, throaty breaths, her thigh pressed alongside his. 

Her apartment looks different than it did the last time he was there, a new end table in the living room, a few other things he can’t place as she reaches for his belt buckle and he struggles to get his shoes off. She guides him into the bedroom where a lamp is on, the pads of her fingers gentle but insistent against his shirt. 

“You sure about this, Kim?” he asks when he feels the bed behind him. _New bedspread_ , he thinks. “Or should I say, Giselle.”

She smirks, slipping out of her heels, dropping a few inches. “Yeah. Well.”

Jimmy catches her hand, lazily interlaces their fingers. “That was some quick thinking back there.” Her face is glowing, either from the tequila or the adrenaline or something else he doesn’t dare to hope, but he has to know, so he asks again, “Are you sure?”

She nods in the same movement she makes towards him, her eyelashes dropping towards her cheeks, her sharp intake of breath when their lips meet again, when they topple onto her bed. It happens all at once. With Kim, it always happens all at once. Her shirt is on, and then it’s not. Did he take it off, did she? He doesn’t remember because she bites his lip and keeps making that sound, that hitch of breath that’s not a giggle. Now her knee is between his legs and she’s sitting up, her center hot against his thigh as he reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. Their hands tangle behind her back, and she does laugh this time, a sound that vibrates through both their bodies and warms the room. 

“I can’t believe,” she says between gulps of air as his lips finally close around her nipple, “that asshole fell for it.”

“Well he wasn’t giving me the time of day,” Jimmy admits, his hands around her ribcage, feeling every shuddering breath she takes. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He thinks he hears her murmur, “God…” and every nerve on his body stands on end, making her make sounds like that. 

She reaches for him again, pawing at his shoulders, his chest, and it’s only after a minute that he realizes she’s trying to pull his shirt over his head. He helps her, raising his arms as she tugs off his shirt, then his undershirt. Her bare chest against his is unbelievably warm, like she’s radiating light. Jimmy reaches up and swipes a hand across Kim’s forehead, pushing her hair out of her eyes. They’re sharp, and the flecks of blue seem to move like the sea, the tide coming in as she kisses him hungrily, shifting to hike up her skirt. 

They fall backwards and she braces herself above him with a hand on either side of his head. Jimmy’s hands fall to his sides, powerless for an instant as she moves atop him, shifting her hips against his, her mouth falling open and her eyes fluttering shut. He watches her, mesmerized for a moment before his hands find the backs of her thighs and move up, up, bringing her skirt along and gathering it at her waist. He presses a forearm to the small of her back and pulls her down closer, increasing the friction between them, their faces only inches apart. When his free hand comes to rest on her ass, giving it a squeeze, she smirks against his mouth. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” she manages, fingernails digging into his shoulder. “Just--” she hums, “--some things never change.”

Jimmy smiles, pleased that she remembers. “Oh, you mean--” He brings his hand down across her ass and the sound of the smack rings in the room, punctuated by her sharp exclamation. 

“Your obsession with my ass, yes. That’s what I meant,” she says, lazily rolling off him and standing to unzip her skirt. 

But he feels himself being pulled to her like a magnet, unable to bear being separated for more than a few seconds. Jimmy moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands finding hers at her waist as she lets her skirt fall to the floor. His fingers dance along the waistband of her underwear, tracing the pattern of the simple lace before moving down, feeling her arch into his touch, her hips tilting forward into his hand, and when his fingers graze her, warm and slick, she gasps--

She gasps so loudly he has to pull the phone receiver away from his ear. 

“You okay?” he chuckles after a moment, hand stilling inside his boxers. 

“Yeah,” she mutters, and he hears a crackling sound. Is she laughing? “Wait, where are you right now?”

“My uh, my office,” Jimmy says casually, wincing as he looks around at the back room of the nail salon in all its 1am glory. The naked lightbulb in the hallway casts a shadow through the frosted window, bathing the whole room in an alien yellow glow. 

“Jimmy,” Kim admonishes, and he feels the tips of his ears turn red. “What if someone walks in?” she whispers.

He rolls his eyes. “Kim, Mrs. Nguyen has a strict work-life balance, she’s not coming in here any time soon. I can guarantee you that.”

“Jimmy,” Kim repeats, her voice darker now, “what if someone walks in?”

He swallows, and as she speaks, his hand starts to move again. 

“How would you explain yourself?” Kim’s voice sounds so close, like she’s right beside him.

“Uh, your honor if it pleases the court, I would like to submit into evidence the fact that the prosecution used her feminine wiles to seduce me into, uh…” He loses his train of thought when he hears her laugh on the other end of the line.

“Seduce you?” she repeats. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“You called me, counselor,” Jimmy says, his voice low. He thinks he hears her gasp again. “What was that?”

Kim chuckles. “No, it’s just--”

“What?”

There is a long pause. Then her voice, clear on the line: “Say it again.”

“What…” Jimmy has to think, blood thrumming in his ears at the husky tone of her voice. “Counselor?”

Her breath hitches. “Uh huh.”

“Do you need a recess, counselor?” he tries, teasing her. 

She laughs, but he can tell she’s close, close to where she’d been before. And if he closes his eyes and forgets he’s on a pullout couch in the back room of a nail salon, he can almost see her, hand between her legs as her chin tilts up, up, exposing her neck--

Her neck is stretched long before him as she rocks in his lap, a delicate column bathed in the soft light of the hotel room. She looks even more angelic than usual, like a painting, and he nips at her collarbone to remind himself she’s real. Her forearms tighten around his shoulders. 

“Don’t!” she gasps. “You’re gonna leave a mark.”

“So?” he says, legs shifting against the silky smooth hotel sheets. “You afraid people will know you have someone you come home to?”

Kim chuckles and shoves his shoulders. “No...” she purrs, scratching his chest. “I just want people to respect me for my work. For what I’m good at.” 

He falls back onto the pillows, gazing up at her as she lazily rolls her hips against him. For a moment the completely unbelievable truth _she’s your wife_ enters his mind, and he almost laughs. 

“That’s a pretty long list, Kim.” 

His hands skim her sides, smoothing up her torso to cup her breasts, to pull at a nipple. She leans into his touch, her lips coming together to let out a long, slow breath before she continues their languid pace. After the chaos of the last few days it almost feels dangerous to revel in something, to enjoy it, to close his eyes and watch her above him. Jimmy slides a hand to her hip bone and starts to move her back and forth, in time with her own rhythm, watching her lips curl into a grin at the increased friction. 

“That ok?” he asks, and she nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, good.” 

There are moments sometimes when she’s incapable of speech, momentarily stunned into blissed-out silence, her hypercompetent brain finally rendered just like everyone else’s, susceptible to the basest human instincts. Kim mutters something, and it’s not a word, it’s barely even a sound. But he knows exactly what she means, speaks her language like it’s his first, like it’s easier than breathing, and he grips her tighter. Suddenly her breath hitches, something bubbling up from inside her. He can practically see it, can see desire coiling tightly in her abdomen, and Jimmy moves his right hand down to touch between their bodies. 

“Wait wait wait!” she says, freezing suddenly. “Don’t, not yet.”

He furrows his brow. “Kim?...”

She rolls off him without warning and he stammers her name again, cold without the fiery feeling of her skin on his.

“Turn over,” she commands a few seconds later, returning to bed with a little bottle. “Up on your knees.”

Electricity tingles down his spine as he obeys, hearing her rustling behind him. It’s part of the fun to ask, so he says, “Kim, what are you doing?”

He feels her rise to her knees behind him and run a nail up the back of his thigh. Her voice is confident and smooth when she whispers, “What I’m good at.”

Jimmy lets out a low chuckle. “Jesus, fuck--”

“Fuck!” Kim hisses in pain. Her hand flies to the crown of her head and she glowers at the ceiling of his car. 

“Jesus, sorry,” Jimmy says, swiping his free hand across his face. He slips his fingers out from under her skirt and rights her.

“No, it’s fine,” Kim sighs, slumping away from him and leaning against the door. She nods in his direction. “You should see the other guy.” 

Jimmy laughs and relaxes too, sitting up a little in the backseat. Her blouse is unbuttoned and she glances down like she’s thinking about closing it, but doesn’t. The unforgiving fluorescent lights from the parking garage slant in through the window, casting her halfway in shadow. 

He’s blowing it, he knows he is. A study session had turned into a late night burger run and he’d offered to drop her back at HHM to pick up her car, and before he knew it she was straddling him in the backseat, breaking the promise they’d made to each other to focus more on work for a while, just a little bit, _a little faster, faster_ , he hears Kim’s voice say, thready with want. 

“You okay?” he asks her now, feeling like a teenager with his jeans around his knees. 

“Yeah,” she says, with a soft smile. “I’m just…”

She lets the thought hang in the air, unfinished. Does it really matter, the casual wave of her hand asks? Isn’t it enough that we’re here, heartbeats humming? 

Her legs rest crookedly around his, her skirt riding high against her thighs. Tentatively, Jimmy reaches a hand up her leg, smoothing up her calf, pressing at the back of her right knee, the tender muscle there. Kim’s eyes slip closed and she hums pleasantly.

“‘S nice,” she murmurs, shifting towards him again, sliding her back down the door. Her hair falls loosely around her shoulders as she rocks her pelvis forward, clumsily bracing her arms on his legs as she tumbles into him, unable to stay away.

“What are we doing?” she whispers, her breath hot in the space between their mouths. 

“I don’t know,” Jimmy answers honestly, his hand still massaging the inside of her knee, the other one reaching up her skirt again. When he makes contact with her center she rolls her hips into his hand hungrily and whines. His mind is totally blank, his only thought is _Kim, Kim, Kim…_

“I don’t know,” he repeats.

“I don’t know,” Kim says, tilting her head, hands on her hips. “I don’t want you to fall.”

Jimmy gestures to the dentist chair beneath him. “Come on, have you seen this thing? More solid than the Carpathia.”

“The…?” Kim furrows her brow as she steps out of her underwear. The office is cold and her thighs erupt in goosebumps. 

Jimmy gestures for her to join him on the chair. “Yeah, the ship that rescued the--careful! Careful.” Her knee lands dangerously close to his groin.

“I told you I didn’t want you to fall!” she insists, mouth spreading into one of her rare wide grins. “You couldn’t have lowered it at all?”

“I tried,” Jimmy says, gesturing to the pedal below them. “The thing is broken.”

“Ohhh,” Kim nods knowingly. “Got it. No wonder they went under.” 

“Yeah, we’re not gonna make the same mistakes as those bozos,” Jimmy says, venturing a hand up her belly and under her shirt. She sighs pleasantly, eyes fluttering closed. 

“No way,” she agrees, rocking her hips against him and guiding him towards her entrance. “We’re gonna--”

They both still as he enters her, neither of them breathing. Her hands grip his shoulders and pain and pleasure converge to a single point in his mind until she finally starts moving, knees squeaking against the plastic covering on the chair. Jimmy lets her set the pace, anchoring her hips to his with one hand and gripping the back of her neck with the other, his fingers catching in the loose golden strands of hair that have started to tumble out of her updo. 

She leans down to kiss him suddenly, both her hands gently cupping his face, her tongue insistently parting his lips. It’s always been this way with her, unbearable moments of tenderness that he barely feels he deserves amidst her reckless passion, her seemingly endless pool of desire. 

“We’re gonna what?” he asks into her mouth, and he feels her shake her head.

“All of it,” she answers. “Everything.” 

Later, when she comes with a loud gasp echoing off the mostly-empty office walls, he knows what she means. She is everything, all her versions, every iteration of herself who’s ever breathed against his cheek, who’s ever sworn under her breath. They’re in her apartment and his car and pushed against the counter in the mailroom after everyone else has left. They’re on a blanket in the desert, they’re in a hotel room, she’s everything to him and she’s a stranger. She’s fire, her torso a hot column of steel as she shudders on top of him, and water, impossible to hold on to but necessary for survival. She’s all he’s ever wanted, all he’s too afraid to hope for.

She is everything she hasn’t been yet, everything she will be, all of it.


End file.
